


Written Art

by KingCrowleysLittlePet_666



Series: Supernatural Reader Inserts (Stories and Drabbles) [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Disclaimer, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, Poetry, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingCrowleysLittlePet_666/pseuds/KingCrowleysLittlePet_666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've kept a secret from the boys for god-only-knows how long; You've been writing poetry. What happens when the eldest Winchester finds your little poetry book and finds a poem that was specifically written for him? </p>
<p>Disclaimer: The last poem, Green Eyes, does NOT belong to me. It belongs to artisticpoet on Tumblr. (Go check it out :) )</p>
<p>Request: Imagine from my Tumblr (Poetry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written Art

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I quickly threw together. The poems didn't even take that long to write either :)

“I’m heading out guys! Call if you need anything!” You hollered from the front door of the bunker.

“Alright! Be safe!” Sam, who was sitting in the library, yelled back at you.

“I will!” You then turned around and left the bunker.

Sam shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes on the text that sat in front of him. Sam placed his right hand on the back of his neck and leaned forward, getting into a comfortable position. Sam never heard the footsteps from his brother until a journal fell in front of him and onto his book. Sam furrowed his brows as he glanced up at his brother, who had a smirk on his face.

 

                “What’s this?” He asked as he picked the journal up and opened it.

               

                “Oh nothing,” Dean said with an amused tone. “Just a journal full of poetry that was written by none other than our friend, (Y/N).”

 

                Sam glanced up. “Dude, where did you get this?”

 

                Dean shrugged. “Where else? In her room.”

 

                “Dean, she’s going to kick your ass if she finds out you took this.” Sam said as he closed the journal, not even bothering to look at the text.

 

                “Probably,” Dean said as he snatched the journal from Sam’s hand. “But, luckily for us, she just left. So we’ll have enough time to read a couple before she gets back.”

 

                “Dean, you can’t be serious.” Sam said. “That’s an invasion of privacy right there. I mean, come on.”

 

                “Invasion of privacy? Nah,” Dean said as he shook his head as he opened up the journal to a specific page. Dean glanced over the page before smiling. “This is one of my favorites.”

 

                “I’m not going to be able to stop you, now, am I?” He asked with a heavy sigh.

 

                Dean smirked. “Nope.” He said. “So, just listen.”

 

                Sam rolled his eyes as he closed his book and placed the palm of his right hand against his cheek, placing his elbow on the table. “I’m listening.”

 

                Dean cleared his throat and took a chair from the table and dragged it out from near the table and sat down in it. Dean ran his eyes over the poem before clearing his throat one more time.

 

                “Alright, this one’s called ‘Wind’.”

 

_“Wind swiftly blows the tree_

_The branches move like splashing waves_

_The moving air, my friend”_

                Sam quirked a brow. “That’s your favorite?” Sam asked with an amused grin. “Why?”

 

                Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it has just a nice, smooth tone to it.” He said with a small smile.

 

                Sam smirked. “Alright, my turn,” Sam said as he stood up and snatched the book from Dean.

 

                Dean grumbled under his breath as he crossed his arms. Sam turned away from his brother and began to turn the pages of the journal. Sam bit his lip once he stopped on a page, skimming over the first couple of words in the lengthy poem.

 

                “This one looks like a good one,” Sam said as he sat down in the chair that he was previously sitting in. “This one is called; ‘Hidden Fears’”

 

_“He runs away like a small child,_

_Scared that his fear could be too wild._

_He hides in the corner of his room_

_And waits while the spirits loom._

_There is something quiet hiding within,_

_This battle he knows that he cannot win._

_Fear always overcomes strength,_

_No matter the courage he has in length._

_He is not alone in this struggle,_

_For his brother can always sense the trouble._

_He swoops in when he is needed,_

_He makes it so he is not defeated._

_Big brother watches from every corner,_

_Everything must be in order._

_To protect his kin is his one true reason_

_With family there is no high treason._

_Big brother is watching you,_

_There is not much you can do._

_He will always be there_

_Through every snare and every prayer._

_Be not afraid small sweet child,_

_For your fears will never grow wild._

_With your brother beside you, there will be no tears,_

_As long as there are no hidden fears.”_

                Dean and Sam were both silent as they took a minute for all of the words to sink in. After a while, a smile appeared on Dean’s face as well as Sam’s.

 

                “That’s pretty good.” Sam said.

 

                Dean nodded. “Yeah,” He agreed and held out his hand. Sam gave him the journal and he proceeded to look through the other pages.

 

                “I gotta say,” Sam said, shifting slight. “I’m completely surprised that (Y/N) wrote those poems. And they’re great. Well written and everything.”

 

                Dean shook his head. “I wouldn’t know, I never paid attention in English class.” He said.

 

                “Dean, you never paid attention in school period.”

 

                Dean glared at Sam. “Shut up,” He said as he glanced back at the journal. Finally, he stopped on a poem that intrigued him. “This one’s called; ‘Darkness’.”

 

_“The end is near._

_The world is nothing._

_Sin soars over the heads of people who pass by_

_And corrupts their souls until they rot._

_Darkness floods the earth like a plague._

_People turn on one another._

_Blood spreads throughout the land_

_And floods the river with their crimson being._

_Death comes near._

_The life from the eyes of people vanishes._

_Death reaches out to all of us_

_And takes us to hell where we will burn for the rest of eternity.”_

                Dean swallowed the lump in his throat that formed when he read the poem. Sam was the one to clear his throat as he grabbed the journal from his brother’s hands.

 

                “Why don’t we find something a little more cheery?” He asked.

               

                Dean nodded. “Sounds good.”

 

                After a while, Sam’s eyes finally landed on a poem that caught his attention. He read through the entire poem, smirking when he finished. He glanced back up at his brother.

 

                “Alright,” He said, glancing back down at the journal. “This one’s called; ‘Green Eyes’.”

 

_“Drowning my heart with his eyes,_

_Conjuring passion that never dies,_

_Such an irresistible pair of green,_

_Engraved on my mind a beautiful scene,_

_Bright, serene and filled with mystery,_

_Amazing how it sparks the chemistry,_

_Merely gazing at them makes my troubles disappear,_

_Gives me hope and sets my mind clear,_

_Brilliance glaring from the mellow iris,_

_Looking through them is truly and bliss.”_

                Sam had the same smirk on his face that he had from the beginning. He glanced up at his brother, who had his hands folded and was leaning forward. Sam was the first one to talk.

 

                “Before the title, it says; ‘For Dean’.” He said as he held out the journal to Dean.

 

                Dean furrowed his brows as he took the journal from Sam’s hands and looked at the page. Sam was right. ‘For Dean’ was written right before the title. Dean stood up from his seat, eyes still plastered on the page.

 

                “Where are you going?” Sam asked as he watched Dean slowly walk out of the room.

 

                “Nowhere,” Dean said, barely above a whisper.

 

                Sam quirked a brow. “So…I don’t tell if you don’t tell?”

 

                “Uh huh…” Dean said.

 

                Sam watched as Dean vanished from his line of sight. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. He then grabbed the book that he had abandoned when Dean came in and opened up to the page that he was reading.

* * *

 

                Dean was unsure how long he had been sitting on your bed, rereading the poem that was supposed to be for him. Apparently, though, it was long enough that you had returned from your trip to the store and put the groceries away. The one thing that dragged Dean’s attention away from the poem was the sound of your voice.

 

                “Dean?” You said as you entered your room. “What are you…?” It was then that you noticed your poetry book in the hunter’s hand. “Where did you get that?”

 

                “I didn’t know you wrote poetry.” Dean said as he stood up, taking one more glance at the page before glancing back up at you.

 

                “Dammit Dean.” You said. “Give it back!” You walked over to him and went to reach for the journal, but he pulled his hand back so you were unable to reach it. “You have no right to touch my stuff!”

 

                “Look,” Dean said as he stared into your eyes. “I’m sorry for looking through your stuff but, I gotta say, your poems are really good.”

 

                You crossed your arms in front of your chest. You then rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks…” You muttered under your breath.

 

                Dean handed you your journal. You snatched it from his hand and held it as close to your chest as you possibly could. Dean gave you a small smile.

 

                “And, by the way, I read your poem “Green Eyes”.” He said.

 

                Your eyes widened and you looked away from him, your cheeks as hot as the surface of the sun. “R-Really?” You stuttered.

 

                Dean nodded. “Yeah,” He said as he got closer to you. “And, just to let you know,” He leaned down to your ear. “I think your eyes are wonderful too.”

 

                You were blushing wildly then as you jerked your head to look at the green-eyed hunter. He stared into your (e/c) eyes with a genuine, charming smile on his full lips. You had your mouth open, but couldn’t find any words that were willing to leave it. Dean let out a breathy chuckle.

 

                “Would you write me another one?”

 

                “Another…?”

 

                “Poem.” Dean smirked.

 

                “Oh!” You exclaimed. “Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.” You let your shoulders slump. “Um, do you have a specific topic…or…?”

 

                Dean shook his head. “Not really. I just want to read more.” He said, making you smile.

 

                Dean then reached down and kissed you on your left cheek. You were surprised by the action. You used your left hand to cover the spot where Dean’s lips had met your skin. If your blush wasn’t noticeable before, you were convinced it was noticeable then. Dean placed his hands comfortably on both of your upper arms.

 

                “Keep writing,” He told you as he let his hands dropped.

 

                You nodded. “I will,” You promised him.

 

                Dean nodded. “Alright,” He said as he began to walk out of your room.

 

                You turned around and watched him. Before he could completely leave, you hollered back at him. “I’ll have those poems for you as soon as I can.” You said.

 

                Dean turned around and looked at you, a smile on his face. “Great. Can’t wait to read them.” He said as he turned around and left your room.

 

                You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared down at the journal that was still in your arms. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was on your face. If you were to be honest with yourself, you completely forgot that you were supposed to be mad that Dean was snooping through your stuff.

 

                You could be mad later.

 

                At the moment, you figured it was about time to sit down and write some more poems for Dean. Maybe you’d do one for Sam, but mostly Dean. You walked over to your bedroom door and closed it. You then walked back over to your bed and sat down on the edge. You opened up the drawer to the nightstand and took out a pencil. You placed the journal in your lap and turned on your lamp. You bit your lip and, after a while, you began to write.


End file.
